


Signs of Evil

by Hekate1308



Series: The Crowley Chronicles [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crowley lives, Fix-It, Gen, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Post 12x23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-13 04:59:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: It’s been a month since he was quick enough to find his doppelganger in the parallel world and convince him that ending his miserable existence was the way to go and saved the world before he closed the gates of Hell once and for all. It gives him plenty of time to relax and occasionally visit the boys. Another Crowley survival story because I can.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had Crowley feels... again. Enjoy!

**Day 30**

It’s been a month since he was quick enough to find his doppelganger in the parallel world and convince him that ending his miserable existence was the way to go and saved the world before he closed the gates of Hell once and for all. Souls can still slip through – can’t allow the increase in ghost activity – but there’ll be no more demons wreaking havoc apart from those who happened to be on earth when he slammed the door shut.

It gives him plenty of time to relax and occasionally visit the boys. Things have been quiet for a while now, since he conveniently showed up to kill off Satan’s spawn and Cas was miraculously brought back to life once again, human but healthy.

He’s walking down a hallway in the bunker; Dean made it abundantly clear that he prefers it when people “knock on doors and walk through them in case I am polishing my gun” so he’s decided to fulfil that particular wish.

A noise emitting from one of the store rooms draws his attention. With a blink of an eye, he’s standing right in the middle of it, looking down at...

Oh. He is somewhat surprised the Men of Letters managed to get hold of a basilisk’s egg.

Rather risky keeping it around.

Basilisk’s eggs are very powerful and as such very valuable, but there are a few drawbacks.

For one, it’s hot and could easily set anything it touches ablaze.

Well...

Anything with a shred of decency, that is.

Because the biggest irony of all concerning basilisk’s eggs is that only evil entities – demons, angry ghosts, occasionally a witch if she manages to be as wicked as his mother was – can touch it without getting burned.

Eggs like this one also have a tendency to move on their own, probably compelled by the same instinct that makes their parents turn anyone who looks at them directly into stone.

It has managed to open its box and roll halfway across the floor.

There’s a pair of gloves and pliers lying nearby, proving the boys already know what’s up.

He reaches out and takes it in his hand.

Huh. It even feels warm for him, and that’s saying something.

He carefully puts it back in the box. As he leaves the room, Dean strolls into the hallway.

“Crowley”.

“Squirrel. I put the egg where it belongs”.

Dean catches on immediately.

“Thought I heard it. Does this about once a month... thankfully it can’t get through the door, the Men of Letters were too careful. Thanks. Can be a real son of a bitch when it wants. We haven’t found a way to destroy it yet”.

He nods. Not even he is aware of a way to accomplish that.

“You staying for dinner?”

He doesn’t need to eat of course, but he will admit that Dean is a good cook.

“Since I’m already here...”

**Day 40**

He’s back at the bunker again. Dean, Sam and Cas are preparing to go on a hunt and he has nothing better to do, so he tags along.

No one says anything against it when he gets into the Impala. The backseat; he doesn’t feel like fighting over riding shotgun today.

“Do you have credentials?” Dean asks when they’re half way to Iowa.

“Sure” he replies. He’s always made certain that he can get in wherever he needs to be.

“Alright then, you can take the locals.”

His badge works like a charm. The little old lady at the reception of the police station even flirts with him a little, which surprises him because it’s easy to tell she has the kind of soul that should have flinched away from him subconsciously.

There’s a reason some people never meet demons. Self-preservation is a powerful instinct, which Mrs. Grover seems to lack.

He shrugs and moves on.

It turns out to be an easy salt-and-burn, but he still hangs around because he’s got nothing else to do and at least the boys are fun.

He drives back with them to the bunker too.

And only when the case is well and truly over and he’s said his goodbyes does he stop and think and realize he just went on a hunt with no other reason than he _could_.

**Day 70**

He’s had to put the basilisk’s egg away too more times in the mean time. They thing is growing annoying; he’s less and less disposed to deal with it, but it would be far more troublesome to force the boys to use the gloves and pliers all the time.

Is it just his imagination or is it growing warmer, too? He should perhaps do some research; not that it melts its box one day. Then they’d really have a problem.

“Ah, Crowley. Great, you can help me out. What does this phrase mean?” Sam, who he’s materialized in front of, asks.

“The bone of the unborn” he reads. “I am assuming you didn’t know that babies having died during their birth was an ingredient, Moose?”

“Who is using babies as an ingredient now?” Dean asks, stepping into the library.

“Hey Crowley, didn’t expect you back so soon”.

He doesn’t sound annoyed, and really, it’s been a while since he visited them last...

A whole of three days, he suddenly realizes.

Oh well.

There’s so much time on his hand these days, and Dean just got a football for the bunker.

**Day 90**

He appears in the bunker’s shooting range and watches Cas fire another round.

“Bulls-eye, Feathers”.

Cas rears around, gun in his hands.

Crowley raises an eyebrow.

“That won’t work on me, I’m afraid”.

The former angel relaxes.

“Crowley”.

“Thought I’d drop in, see how you were getting by”.

Neither of them mentions he only stopped for dinner yesterday.

“Also, I put the egg back into the box... You should really look into that, it’s getting hotter”.

“Hotter?”

“Yes”.

Cas tilts his head to the side and studies him and for the first time in a long time, he can’t tell what he’s thinking.

He doesn’t tell him about the curious revulsion he feels that’s getting stronger every time he has to face the egg. Must be his imagination. And that look on his face makes him uncomfortable enough.  

**Day 120**

“Crowley” Dean says when they’re about to retire and he’s getting ready to say his goodbye and return to the luxurious hotel he’s currently staying in.

“We cleared this one” he points to a door, “But no loud music between the hours of two and eight am”.

And with that they leave him to... get acquainted with his own room.

Alright then.

It’s plain, simple, comfortable. Nothing like the hotel where he has room service and a huge flat screen.

He moves in immediately.

That night, the egg comes crashing down again.

He could swear it’s a few degrees hotter than the last time.   

**Day 130**

“Crowley. Did you bring a hell hound into the bunker?” Dean asks at breakfast. “Because I could have sworn something licked my hand in the war room.”

“Of course. You know her. Juliet.”

“Juliet... Alright, but why?”

“You gave me a room. I can’t let my girl camp outside when I have a room.”

“Your – you know what, just tell her no chewing on anything, and she’s not allowed on the couch”.  

**Day 150**

He can find nothing that would explain why the egg is becoming hotter every time he picks it up, but at least Cassie knows so someone’s keeping an eye on it when he’s not around.

Not that he’s gone so often. After all, they gave him a room, he might as well use it.

“Good morning – oh, Sheriff Mills. Girls”.

The sheriff looks quite well. Their date certainly did her no harm, he hopes, somewhat taken aback at his own reaction.

From what he can remember of his human life, he’s experiencing something almost like shame.

Before anyone can stop her, the one he thinks is called Claire Novak, Cas’ vessel’s daughter, marches up to him and punches him in the face.

She’s pretty strong for her age.

“Claire!” Jody calls out, clearly worried, and the others quickly move behind her.

Dean seems to be a bit conflicted as to who to shield against whom. It’s almost... touching.

The last thing he wants to do on this fine morning is provoke a fight though, especially since he’s pretty sure he’ll have to deal with the damn egg again soon.

And he _did_ try to kill her, after all.

“I suppose I deserved that” he says mildly.

He ignores Sam’s incredulous stare.

**Day 200**

The egg’s almost too hot to hold now, but he can’t find a single reason in lore why it should be.

“Crowley, we’ve got a case!” Dean calls out.

He moves to find him in the hallway.

“I’m worried about the egg” he says.

“Cas told us. Don’t worry, we strengthened both the box and the door” Dean says.

He can’t feel any enhanced protection, but Dean knows what he’s talking about.

He shrugs his shoulders and forgets about it.

**Day 250**

“You can trust anyone in this room” Dean tells the other hunters they met on their newest case.

Of course they immediately look at Crowley. His time on the throne is still well remembered, it seems.

“I don’t know...” the woman begins, slowly. “After all you did, working with a demon...”

Dean snorts.

“Come on guys, do you really think he’d be a member of our team if we didn’t trust him?”

Talking is suddenly difficult.

It’s a strange thing to have, the trust of others.

**Day 300**

He can actually sleep when he puts his mind to it, and it’s a pleasant way to pass the night. Otherwise, he just waits for the boys to wake up or corrects the mistakes in the Men of Letter’s library or takes Juliet on a walk.

Even the others have got used to having to wake him for breakfast, although they were a little weirded out at the beginning (it’s not his fault he doesn’t need to breathe, and he told himself he wasn’t feeling bad when Dean came to get him and thought he was dead for a second).

So, when a crash wakes him up, he blinks and groans realizing it’s the stupid egg again. Juliet sniffles at the foot of his bed.

 He just hopes it didn’t wake up anyone else. Dean is just getting used to a regular sleep schedule, and Cas still has problems drifting off now and then.

Definitely uncomfortably hot now.

**Day 365**

It’s been a pretty relaxing week – Sheriff Mills even came to visit and was civil to him – and he sighs when he hears the tell-tale thump from the library.

For some reason, he feels Cas’ eyes follow him as he leaves the room.

Also, he really dreads dealing with the egg, now. He must be growing soft after all.

He sighs and leans down to pick it up. 

* * *

 

Even without Cas’ text, he would know.

After he told them of Crowley’s worry about the egg, they did their research and there is only one explanation why someone would think the thing was too hot to touch.

And to be fair, he hasn’t considered the demon pure evil since...

Point is, Dean has been waiting for this for a while, so the crash and the curse coming from the store room don’t bother him.

Neither does the sight of Crowley, staring at his burned hand with a shocked expression on his face.

Dean picks up the gloves and the pliers and puts the egg away.

“Don’t touch it just like that again”.

He lightly touches his shoulder.

“Come on, you need that taken care of”.

From their own experience, he knows the burn will be a bitch.

As they walk towards the war room Dean says, “Being good isn’t that bad, you know”.

Crowley doesn’t say anything, but from the corner of his eye, Dean can see a small, pleased smile on his face. 


	2. Chapter 2

At first, nothing really changes.

Because, yes, while it is somewhat satisfying to know he’s not evil anymore, none of them really consider the consequences of that.

Not until the British Men of Letters start another attack on American Hunters and Crowley, severely ashamed of ever working with them, puts his teleportation skills to good use.

Especially when it comes to Sheriff Mills, whose address is there to read for everyone in the phone book.

Dean shoots him a look as soon as they discover the Men of Letters are back in America, and with a blink, he’s at her house.

“Sheriff, girls, British bastards are crawling around again, and no, I don’t mean myself”.

Then he’s back at the bunker, looks at Dean, exclaims “Bloody Hell” and returns.

“And for God’s sake, put up better protections, I shouldn’t be able to get in here. At all”.

The threat is soon dealt with, but the day seems to stick in the sheriff’s mind.

At least that’s the conclusion he comes to when he stumbles across Dean talking to her on the phone in the library.

“Alright, if you think... No, don’t worry, we’ll handle it...”

Crowley walks up to him and Dean’s eyes widen.

“Good God, you were right, Jody. I’ll call you later”.

He hangs up.

“What’s up, Squirrel?”

He certainly looks pretty confused.

Then, he clears his throat and says, calmly, “Crowley... would you please lift the carpet?”

He turns around and looks at the carpet he just walked over.

He only understands when he lifts a corner and sees the perfectly functioning devil’s trap that just failed to catch him.

“What the...”

“Walk over it again” Dean suggests. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you out...”

As if he’d expect anything different, but he obliges him.

The same result.

All he can do is stare. Then, he slowly walks right into the trap.

Nothing. No feeling of being stuck, no diminished powers, nothing.

He walks right back out.

Dean clears his throat.

“Wow. Don’t take this the wrong way... but man am I glad you’re on our side now”.

“I highly doubt I would ever have achieved this if I were not” he observes calmly.

It’s the opposite of how he feels, really.

This is... more than a little disconcerting.

He’s a demon. Being annoyed by devil’s trap, sigils et cetera is just part of his identity.

Only it isn’t, apparently. Not anymore.

Dean must have told the others, because no one asks him about it.

Only Sam isn’t satisfied that easily. Of course not.

A few days later, at dinner, he’s just finished eating when he notices the younger Winchester staring at him.

“What is it, Moose?”

He holds up a bottle that once contained holy water.

“You just gargled down a whole glass of this”.

He immediately starts coughing. Dean’s at his side in an instant.

“Sammy, what the Hell? You can’t just do stuff like that – “

“I’m alright” he coughs. “It’s not – it’s a reflex”.

“So, no burn?”

“No burn” he confirms.

Cas looks pensive as he holds up the salt shaker.

He takes it in his right hand and pours a generous amount unto his palm.

Nothing.

He’s always been more resilient towards salt than other demons, but that had to do with his age and powers. It still hurt like a bitch, though.

This time, there’s no reaction whatsoever.

“That’s... new” Dean says helpfully.

“Salt has always been a purifier” Cas answers slowly. “I think... now that Crowley’s not evil anymore... there’s no reason why it should repel him”.

He’s been wondering why he likes Dean’s cooking more and more.

Answer: because the seasoning doesn’t even bother him slightly anymore.

“Alright, so as long as demons aren’t evil, our protections won’t work” Dean says. “At least that won’t be a problem”.

“But we’ve met demons who were just quietly living their life before” Sam argues. “Remember Ramiel?”

 “Ah, yes” Crowley drawls, “I always thought he plunged Michael’s Lance into Cas _nicely_.”

Sam flinches.

“I didn’t – sorry, Cas”.

“It’s quite alright”.

“My point is, demons – “

“Moose – “ he interrupts him, frustrated because he can’t really put it in words. “It’s more than just – not torturing people as a hobby, alright? It’s – when I remember what I used to enjoy, I feel sick”.

He’s never put it into words before, but the memory of the cries of the tortured souls he heard in Hell haunts him these days.

“That’s ‘cause you’re good now” Dean says, “I see it as a plus”.

And Dean should know. Dean has his own memories of Hell to accompany his sleepless nights.

He nods.

“Alright. So all of this – salt, devil’s traps, holy water – they ward off evil things, not demons per se” Sam states. “I’m writing that down”.

“I highly doubt it will be relevant for future hunters, but feel free to do so” Crowely replies.

“Well, you’re the one who’ll see if it’s important” Dean winks at him.

And it’s then and only then that Crowley realizes that yes, he’s now indeed the only immortal being among them.

He swallows at the implications and shoves the thought away.

“Good thing is, we now don’t have to look for traps anymore when we’re hunting” Dean says with a grin.  

They’ll never let him forget his misstep a few months ago when he happened to land in a devil’s trap a paranoid hunter had built in the woods.

But it turns indeed out to be a “good thing” because shortly after, they stumble upon another group of hunters working the same case, one who’s not at all open to good supernatural beings, Dean tells them when he returns from the morgue with Cas, fuming.

“They’ve heard about us, of course, and they still interrogated Cas like he’s some sort of monster”.

“Technically...”

“Cassie, we both know you’re not going to win that discussion” Crowley says simply.

“So I guess they won’t...” he begins when there’s a knock on the door.

Dean groans.

“I was hoping they’d be too repulsed by Cas’ presence to...”

“You told them where we are staying?”

“They were very insistent” Cas explains. “Not telling them would have looked suspicious”.

There’s no help for it then.

Dean lets the family of three – father and two sons, how ironic – in.

“Trevor, Milford and Edward Tobbins, you know Cas, this is my brother Sam, and – “

Just a short hesitation, too short for someone who doesn’t know him to notice, and Crowley is prepared to lie as he continues smoothly, “Fergus MacLeod. A good witch. He’s a friend”.

“MacLeod, ay? You Scottish?”

“As a matter of fact, I am” he says, with the old accent he spoke with back in his human life.

“I was visiting the boys when we found the case”.

Thankfully, witches aren’t as bad as monsters or angels in their book.

“Sorry, man” Dean says later. “I know you hated your name, but it was all I could come up with”.

“A witch sounds plausible”.

“Yeah, just... mumble some Latin stuff when you use your mojo, you’ll be fine”.

They indeed manage to fool the Tobbins, even though to his delight, they try out the old “pour a little holy water into their drinks” trick.

A few hours later, he’s actually scrying in front of them, mumbling nonsense to himself.

“We’re looking for a demon” he declares.

True, he saw nothing worthwhile, but it wasn’t hard to find Asmodeus’ fingerprints all over this case.

Guy always had a thing for skinning people.

“What kind of demon?” Dean asks, throwing him a shrewd look.

“Very old and powerful, but not one of the Princes. Ordinary black-eyed demon. We can send him back with an exorcism.”

And that’s exactly what it boils down to, even if Crowley only stops to wonder if this will send him back to Hell too while he himself is performing it.

Asmodeus’ fight knocks him out, and the next thing he knows, he can hear Dean berating him.

“Damn it, Cr- Fergus! You dumb son of a bitch, don’t you dare – “

He opens his eyes.

“Hello, Squirrel”.

Dean looks over his shoulder to make sure the others are preoccupied with cleaning up, then hisses, “Did you know that wasn’t gonna send you right back?”

“I was one hundred per cent sure. Alright, thinking about it, maybe eighty-five per cent”.

“You...” Dean sighs.

“At least now we know exorcisms were supposed to literally throw the evil out.”

He helps him up.

Yes, he decides that night at dinner after the Tobbins have left, he does enjoy being _not_ evil.

Furthermore, he rather enjoys being _good_.

And when it comes to live to see future hunters realize their misconceptions about devil’s traps and exorcisms...

It could be fun, he doesn’t doubt that, but on the other hand...

He still has time for now.

There’s no point getting cured before the boys have reached the age of his meat suit.

He’ll just look after them until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist.


End file.
